The Ranch

There’s something about being outside amongst the rough canyons and cedar trees of northwestern Oklahoma that makes me feel more alive. All of my senses are heightened. I can hear the brush moving from a hundred yards away, if the wind is soft enough. It’s like taking a long drink of cold water when you’ve felt dehydrated for weeks. It feels that good.

My great uncle was one of the last remaining few true rugged ranchers and plainsman left. He died in July of 2002, and his legacy lives on through his land. It tells stories about him and his way of life. It’s nice to talk to him in that way and remember so much of what he was about, and what it means to have roots that run deep in the territory.

A lot of people knew my great uncle as the cantankerous old man that was sometimes cranky and, dare I say it, even a little bit pushy. Most people would remember him as a man that spoke exactly what he was thinking, be it harsh, easy, or indifferent. I knew mostly the man that although he was stubborn and well set in his ways, was also willing to open his mind. He became a Christian at the age of 80, an age that shocked me. Most people don’t reconsider their faith that far into adulthood. I also knew the man that often cried because he regretted not having children, and a man that gave a lot of himself and his wealth to those that needed it.

I sifted through all sorts of memorabilia through his house. Although it had been well over a year since his passing, everything was purposefully left just as it had been when he was alive. It was almost like a shrine. A personal museum. He faithfully kept a diary of every single day of his life, and I found several diaries that went well back into the 1930’s. I enjoyed reading them, along with the various letters, wedding announcements, birth announcements, and news clippings. I was provided with a unique glimpse of history through the eyes of my own family. My sons enjoyed sitting on the saddle and looking at the old ranching equipment hanging on the walls, as my wife and I gleaned out all the enjoyment that comes from the wealth of proud family heritage.

The daylight hours of the two short days we spent there were spent wandering through the canyons and hills around the old house that had been built, from what I could gather, probably some time in the ‘30s or ‘40s. For my sons, it was a time to scout out things they had never seen before. For me, it was a time to share with them the wonder I remembered when I was their age walking across the same terrain and memorializing the various times I remembered hunting in certain areas and what I had seen and when. It was a time to lose myself in nature and forget everything else for a while.

The nights were spent in the house enjoying the company of the family. The place is outside the reach of television stations, and the phone was disconnected. The stars made for good entertainment. I often forget how light pollution destroys a beautiful night sky.

Now that November has come again, and it’s turkey season. So, I believe I will again make the trip to this ranch and this time, I will bring back the largest gobbler I can find.